


Save Me From Myself

by Sunsetter



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Doctor/Patient, Enemies to Lovers, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Female Protagonist, Female-Centric, Healing, Implied/Referenced Brainwashing, Lesbian Sex, Unorthodox Bedside Manner, mercymaker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-25
Updated: 2017-08-25
Packaged: 2018-12-19 16:17:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11901444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunsetter/pseuds/Sunsetter
Summary: Power's out, building under lockdown. And Mercy's only company is Amélie Lacroix.





	Save Me From Myself

Constant worry. That was what every mission like this entailed for Mercy. Each time Overwatch acted on intel indicating a need for a precision strike, a small assault team embarked in hope of fulfilling the task. But the “get in – get out” tactic they employed left no room for a medic. Thus Angela usually paced nervously around her office, wishing everyone would make it back safely. On this particular morning, she had already spent hours hoping to receive word from commander Morrison and his men. Yet the uncomfortable silence continued, and she could do nothing but wait.

Half an hour later, the display on the wall lit up and Angela was glad to see Jack’s garbled face through the heavy interference. Though it was hard to tell, he seemed uninjured.

“Dr. Ziegler, do y-- read m--?”

“Commander, repeat. I can barely hear you.”

“... array damaged. ... en route to HQ. I need you to-- ... ergency resuscitation. Do you read?”

Angela felt a chill run down her spine. One, or maybe more of the squad members were badly injured. The last time Jack sent through a transmission like this, they didn’t even make it back before...

Mercy’s hands gripped her coat in dreadful anticipation. “Jack... who is it?”

A few seconds of horrible silence before she got her response.

“... not ours, doctor. We’re a-- fine. But we captur-- a Talon operative. ... there in ten minutes. Morrison out.”

Ziegler breathed a sigh of relief. They were all okay. The sense of joy that swept over her almost caused her to forget her orders. She prepped the “Severe Injury Treatment” unit and waited for the team to arrive. As the minutes counted down, she thought about her soon-to-be patient. A Talon operative. That certainly wasn’t part of the plan. All efforts to capture one have failed in the past and now it seemed they’d caught a lucky break. That is if they don’t succumb to injuries before the team comes back. Either way, the Overwatch operatives were safe. That’s all that mattered. And if an unexpected source of information ended up being the result of this capture, then all the better.

The noise in the corridor soon interrupted Angela’s thoughts. Before she had the time to rush to the door, two guards entered, followed by commander Morrison. He waved in someone behind him and a third guard directed the floating gurney inside. “She was caught in a blast,” Jack explained. “Do whatever you can to keep her alive, doctor.”

Angela looked at the woman being moved from the gurney to the healing station. Her skin-tight uniform was torn and charred in various places and her body covered with cuts and bruises. The prone position of her motionless form withheld her identity from Ziegler for a moment longer, but then her unusual skin color jolted her memory. And when she came closer and saw her face, her suspicions were confirmed. It was Amélie Lacroix.

The doctor suppressed a gasp from the startling realization. This wasn’t just any Talon operative. It was _the_ operative. The woman who, following her ‘reprogramming’, went on to become one of the key figures within the sinister organization. The only better catch Overwatch could’ve hoped for was Gabriel Reyes himself. And thought the prospect of that ever occurring seemed impossible, the same could’ve been said for Widowmaker as well, up until a moment ago. Perhaps this was a sign of things finally turning in their favor.

But regardless of whether that was true, Lacroix was here. She lay with deathly stillness on the flat surface of the healing unit, evidently in a grave but stable condition. Angela quickly initiated patient analysis and as the device scanned the fallen Talon operative, she turned to Jack for some information.

“How is she here? I thought your goal was the London cell.”

“Our intel was faulty,” Morrison explained. “The cell was active, but the number of agents was greater than we expected. And _she_ certainly wasn’t meant to be there. It should’ve been a slaughter,” he went on grimly. “But their perimeter defense activated too soon, not sure why. Took out half of them before they could take their positions. Lacroix was up on a balcony providing cover when a secondary blast knocked her unconscious. Whoever botched those charges did us a huge favor.” The soft buzz of the body scanner was the only sound for a few seconds. Angela glanced aside to see the unit was half way through the analysis.

“So what are we--?”

“Sorry, doctor. The rest will have to wait,” Morrison said as he signaled the other men to leave. “We have reason to believe Talon will attempt a retrieval op, so we need to secure the perimeter.”

Ziegler looked up in surprise as she realized she was being left alone with the infamous Widowmaker. “Um, commander... Don’t you think it’s wise to leave someone here in case--?”

“No need. She came to and reached for her gun when we were about to cuff her, so we hit her with a tranq dart. She’ll be out of it for several hours at least. Your only worry is keeping her alive. I don’t need to tell you how important she is to us.” Angela looked at the unnaturally still body of her patient. Despite knowing the woman posed no danger, she couldn’t help feeling ill at ease. But she tried not to let it show.

“Of course. I’ll do everything I can.”

Jack nodded in acknowledgement and left the office.

The unit signaled the scan completion and Angela went to see the results. Lacerations, contusions, second degree burns and several fractures. All in all, a better state than the blonde had assumed, and well within the capabilities of the healing unit. She initiated the bone repair first and the circular cover immediately slid shut over Widowmaker’s body. As the machine did its thing, Mercy circled around with a look of worry on her face. Flashes of the operative’s past actions appeared in her mind, none more vivid than her very first kill. Yet for all her misdeeds, Mercy didn’t blame her for any of it. As far as she was concerned, Amélie was a victim as much as any of her targets and when she recalled what Talon did to her, she shivered with resentment. She knew Overwatch operatives’ opinion of Widowmaker differed greatly, but for her part, she felt sorry for the woman.

Only now, that feeling was also mixed with sense of fear she had ever since they brought Lacroix in. Luckily, her sidearm was only a few steps away and should the French woman show signs of stirring she’d need only reach for her locker. Though she knew there was no need. The new tranq darts Overwatch began using recently were effective for a significantly longer period of time, and even upon waking, the affected individual would remain groggy and exhausted for quite a while. So for all intents and purposes, Angela was completely safe. Why then could she not shake the feeling of unease? Commander Morrison did inform her a Talon attack could be imminent, yet for some reason the doctor felt the real danger lay much closer.

The S.I.T. soon signaled the finished procedure and, per Mercy’s instructions, began working on Lacroix’s burns next. The soothing yellow light from beneath the cover moved upwards, stimulating cell regeneration. Angela monitored the state of her patient on the display, half a mind focused on the procedure and the other being troubled by a possible attack on Overwatch HQ. Just as she felt a spark of hope that perhaps Morrison might be wrong, a near-simultaneous three explosions echoed from the distance. The lights flickered, a soft rumble was felt through the floor, and a second later the emergency blast shutters slid down, closing off the office door and window. The sense of panic had barely began to rise in Mercy when the lights went out, leaving her office lit only by the self-powering LEDs on both sides of the room.

Angela’s heart raced as she went from the door to the window, confirming that she was indeed locked in. The fact that the emergency lighting hadn’t kicked in meant the secondary power generator was destroyed as well. Talon, if that was really them, seemed to know what they were doing. On the positive side, there were no sounds of gunfight following the blast, so the doctor concluded the attackers hadn’t managed to get inside. Yet. So she stood close to the window, listening for any sign of a situation change. She was so focused on what was going on outside that she completely missed the faint steps coming right behind her. And when she saw a face in the window’s glassy reflection she almost had a heart attack.

The second she turned around she was pinned against the glass by the hand of Amélie Lacroix. The woman held her firmly by the neck, eyes glaring with anger. Angela gasped for air and tried to push her away but the Talon operative exhibited an unusual amount of strength, especially for someone in her condition. Widowmaker’s eyes darted around as she assessed her situation and paid little heed to the doctor’s struggles. Then she turned back to Ziegler and a few moments later she released her.

“Where am I?” she demanded, not even letting Angela catch her breath.

“Overwatch HQ,” the blonde managed, as her breathing gradually went back to normal.

“The _exact position_ , doctor,” Amélie clarified, her eyes narrowing in irritation.

Ziegler weighed her options, wondering what consequence that information could have if revealed. Lacroix obviously knew where she was, but what help their precise location would be under these circumstances, Mercy couldn’t imagine. Whatever discomfort she felt about answering the Talon operative was soon met with an irrefutable fact – if the woman deems her useless she might kill her then and there. Her sidearm was left foolishly behind the now powerless glass door of her locker and in hand to hand combat she didn’t stand a chance. Angela was trained to save lives, Lacroix to end them. Thus the prospect of getting the better of her seemed nigh impossible. So there was only one consideration – the little use the French woman would have of the info she wanted was far outweighed by the prospect of Mercy staying alive. And no doubt commander Morrison would agree.

“Third floor, south-east wing.”

Amélie shot her a sideways glance, looking for signs of deception. And she found none. She continued pacing about the office, checking both possible exit points and realized her options were limited. With an irritated sigh, she mouthed a single word under her breath.

“ _Merde.”_

The next moment she paused and turned towards Mercy. She cocked her head a bit to the left, as though looking at something mildly interesting, before she started walking slowly towards the blond woman.

“Doctor... Angela... Ziegler,” she spoke nonchalantly. “I suppose I have you to thank for still drawing breath?”

“Oh! No, I--” Mercy intoned with surprise. She was about to give all the rightful credit to a machine before she realized how stupid it would be not to take the opportunity to get on Widowmaker’s good side. “I was only doing my job, that’s all,” she concluded a brief smile.

“No need for modesty, doctor. You did your job well. I imagine it would be quite difficult to torture a dead woman for information.”

“Overwatch does not torture prisoners,” Mercy spoke out defensively.

“No? Then you’re even more incompetent than I thought. Tell me then, how do you plan to learn what you need to know? By asking nicely?”

“I’m not in charge of--”

“No, of course not. The only blood on your hands is that of your comrades, isn’t it?”

Angela’s jaw clenched, but she showed no other sign of rage that had began building inside her. Lacroix was getting to her far more quickly and more successfully than she would care to admit. And as much as she would’ve liked to respond in kind, she forced herself to remember what’s important here – keep Widowmaker talking and keep the situation from escalating.

“It may surprise you to learn that not everyone enjoys killing.”

“Hmmmm,” Amélie intoned with a little smirk. “Was that was aimed at me, doctor? Just what do you think you know about your present company?”

“I know enough.”

“Enough to keep me talking so familiarity lessens the chance of our encounter ending in your death?”

Mercy’s eyes widened slightly in surprise, to which the purple-haired woman only smiled wider. But it was a cold smile, like a reflex. There was no joy in her eyes.

“You needn’t worry, mademoiselle Ziegler. You’re more use to me alive. I will only end your life if I have to.”

“You’re too kind,” Mercy retorted sarcastically.

“I aim to please,” Lacroix said with a wink, emulating a gun shot with her fingers. “Tell me then, what do the Overwatch files say? I can’t imagine the incompetent buffoons of your organization have acquired anything of use.”

“We captured you, didn’t we?”

“A stroke of luck, doctor. Rest assured, it was a one-time occurance. But you keep avoiding my question. Is that fear I sense in you?”

“No,” Mercy replied before she even thought about what she was saying. It was true she wasn’t afraid of Widowmaker. But there was some strong sense of discomfort and dread that bordered on fear, likely what most people would feel in the company of a cold-blooded assassin. Which is why her response was probably a bad idea. Lacroix, however, seemed curious. She walked slowly towards Mercy until they stood face to face. She gazed intently in her eyes, looking for a sign of weakness.

“So it would seem,” Amélie admitted. “How refreshing. Usually that which I see through my scope is either blissful unawareness or abject terror. But you stare death in the eye and don’t flinch. I think,” she continued and that moment for some reason glanced at Angela’s lips, “you would do well in Talon.”

“You mean after they brainwash me into a husk of my former self?”

“Is that what you were told? What you read in your silly little reports? No, doctor. Talon made me better, faster, stronger. They gave me a _purpose._ ”

“At what cost, Amélie?!” Ziegler blurted out, not even realizing she addressed the woman on a first name basis. She never has felt any hatred towards her, despite everything she had done. But hearing her talk of what she went through with such exhilaration made her feel sorry for her all the more. “Do you know what you’ve done, how many people’s lives you’ve taken?”

“Each of those deaths was necessary.”

“For what? Some maniacal plan of Talon’s? Do you even know what that is? Do you care? Or do you just blindly follow orders like a mindless drone?!”

“That’s enough, doctor.”

“How can you not feel any remorse? Did you even hesitate before killing your own husband?!”

“Enough!” Amélie cried out and viciously slapped Mercy with the back of her hand. For a few seconds Widowmaker watched her with seething fury, before forcing a neutral facial expression and stepping back. She walked to other side of the room and sat with her back leaning against the wall. Whatever interest she had in extracting intel from Ziegler seemed to be gone now. And though this brought Angela closer to a confrontation she had hoped to avoid, it also provided her with valuable information. Despite what Overwatch files said, it seemed that Amélie Lacroix was not dead inside after all.

 

*

 

No sounds could be heard outside. The silence fed the tense atmosphere inside Mercy’s office. Neither woman moved, but Amélie in particular was eerily motionless. Angela cast occasional glances at her, each time expecting to see some change, an indication that she was in fact still just a human being. But death-like stillness is all that she witnessed. She was content to let this impasse of sorts continue, until a fresh red stain on the side of Widowmaker’s uniform caught her attention.

“You’re bleeding.”

“Then you have not done your job that well after all,” Lacroix said in a flat tone of voice.

“I need to tend to your wounds.”

“That won’t be necessary.”

Angela glared at her for a second before responding. “Fine. Bleed to death then.” In that instant she was sure the edge of Amélie’s lips curved into a tiny smile, but the very next it was gone. _I must have imagined it._

Minutes passed. Mercy thought back to the moment the other woman woke and wondered how on earth it was possible that she was up so soon. Either Talon had developed some countermeasure for the tranquilizer darts, or there was some flaw in their design. Whatever it was, it didn’t change her current predicament one bit. But yet another fresh blood stain on Widowmaker’s uniform would.

Angela eyed the Talon operative before standing up and grabbing the dermal regenerator, which was, luckily, fully charged.

“Up,” she ordered as she stood before Lacroix.

“I’m in no mood for your pestering, doctor. I suggest you look for amusement elsewhere.”

“I don’t find the notion of my patient bleeding the least bit entertaining, I assure you. Now get up.”

Widowmaker rose swiftly, her face now no more than an inch away from Angela’s. “You’re pushing your luck,” she intoned menacingly. “I could end your life in a heartbeat.”

“Yes, yes, you do that,” Mercy replied dismissively, “Later. Right now I need to treat your wounds.” The lack of any fear in Ziegler’s eyes surprised the Talon operative. The fact that she was a ruthless killer helped little in intimidating Angela here and now, for the only thing the doctor feared more than losing her life is losing her patient – even one as notorious as Amélie Lacroix. Consequently, the purple-haired woman felt no desire to make good on her threats and for the first time since they’ve been here Mercy was taken aback by an actual show of emotion on Widowmaker’s face. Amélie watched her with smiling eyes, or her own subdued and barely noticeable version of it. But it was there, of that Ziegler was certain.

“Very well, doctor. Where do you want me?” she inquired with a nigh-sensuous tone of voice.

“There is fine,” Angela replied, completely missing the double entendre of Amélie’s question. “Just remove your uniform.”

Lacroix acquiesced, pulling down the skin-tight attire from her shoulders down either side of her body. “I think I understand your frustration now, doctor. If I had known you were so eager to see me disrobe I might have indulged your request sooner.”

Mercy glared in mild frustration, ignoring the taunting comment. She neither had the time nor the will to deal with Widowmaker’s games, not when her medical skills were required. Yet as more of the woman’s skin became revealed, she unwittingly glanced over her form. And though she told herself it was to inspect the woman for injuries, she spent more time doing it than her duties warranted. Her eyes were lured by the graceful contours of Amélie’s conical breasts, and the subtle athleticism joined with exquisite femininity made her torso no less inviting. As the woman further unveiled her body and stepped out of her uniform, Mercy was surprised to see that she wore no underwear underneath. As consequence, Widowmaker’s form was now on full display – the smooth calves, the gently muscled thighs and even her hairless sex. Clearly the shift from ballet dancer to assassin endowed her with a figure worthy of admiration. Not that that mattered to Angela, her interest was obviously just professional. Which is why it was surprising it took her a while to locate the woman’s injuries.

“Is something the matter, doctor?” Amélie inquired with an undertone of mock-concern.

“No,” Mercy responded, composing herself and quickly taking stock of every scar and bruise on the otherwise flawless body. She circled the Talon operative once to make sure there were no injuries that required more immediate attention and then began her work. Her first target was a bruise below Amélie’s shoulder blade, after which a few small scars nearby followed. The tissue healed as soon as Mercy went over it with the light of the regenerator. And when she was done, she moved in front of the woman. There, beneath Amélie’s left breast lay the scar that prompted her to do this. A drop of blood trickled down the purple skin, yet after two slow swipes of Mercy’s apparatus the source of it was gone. And so were the scrapes and bruises that surrounded it. She was just about to put aside the regenerator when Lacroix spoke.

“How remiss of you, mademoiselle Ziegler. It seems you missed a spot.”

Angela glanced at her front, looking for the injury that escaped her. And soon she noticed a scar on Amélie’s inner thigh, right next to her...

“Oh,” Mercy mouthed, slightly uncomfortably. “Right.” She knelt before the Talon operative and began healing the wound. As the light slowly repaired the tissue, Angela became acutely aware of the awkwardness of her position. She was kneeling in front of a nude Amélie Lacroix, all her attention between the woman’s thighs. Though impossible, the notion of somebody walking in on them at this moment brought a light flush to Ziegler’s cheeks. Most of her focus was on doing her job, yet it took a surprising amount of willpower to keep her eyes from darting to where they definitely should not be. And when she finally finished, she looked up at Widowmaker to see an impudent smirk on the woman’s face.

“See anything you like?” Amélie teased.

“I see a patient being difficult,” Mercy huffed in response, and rose to return the apparatus to its place while Lacroix put her uniform back on.

“My apologies, I wasn’t aware you prefered your women easy.”

“Wh... ugh!” Angela exclaimed in frustration, which drew an ever wider grin from Lacroix.

“Come now, doctor. I was only trying to be friendly.”

“I doubt that.”

“ ‘tis true. For better or for worse, we’re stuck with each other. There’s no reason we can’t... play nice.”

“I’m not in the mood for your games.”

“Mmm, and here I thought someone like you would be more fun.”

“You know nothing about me.”

“On the contrary, I know a great deal. Although I confess, even Talon’s exhaustive intelligence is a little vague in some areas. Tell me, mademoiselle Ziegler – just what _is_ your relationship with Fareeha Amari?”

“That’s none of your business!” Mercy shot back and immediately felt herself blush.

“My, my,” Lacroix chuckled. “It seems I’ve touched a nerve. I could touch something else, if you prefer it.”

Angela exhaled in frustration and walked over to the other side of the room. There was no way she could escape Amélie’s teasing, but perhaps a little distance would reduce it to a minimum. She glared at the window glass and the emergency shutters, as if to try and will them to open. But all she saw move was Widowmaker’s reflection, as the woman sauntered over to the S.I.T. unit, leapt gracefully on top and perched herself there like a statue. Mercy held her gaze for a few moments before it became too awkward to pretend she was looking anywhere else. So she turned around.

“It’s wrong.”

“What is?” Angela responded, even though she was sure where any further conversation would lead.

“What you’ve read about me. Some of it is true, but the things you’ve said... It’s not the killing that excites me, it’s what precedes it. Planning, trailing, watching, waiting... the end result comes from my seeing no value in the lives I take, yes. But it’s the _thrill of the hunt_ that makes me feel alive, doctor. And the hunt needn’t always end in death,” she concluded as her eyes glanced down Mercy’s body. ”But a _climax_ of sorts? Certainly.”

“You speak about snuffing out lives with such glee, but all I hear is that somewhere out there innocent men and women met their end in fear.”

“I can’t speak to that.”

“Of course not, because you feel no fear.”

“ _Exactement_.”

Angela slowly closed the distance between them and gazed at Lacroix for a few moments. Maybe what she was about to tell the woman would end badly for her, but either way, she needed to say it.

“I think you’re lying.”

“Is that so?” the Talon operative countered with a cynical smirk.

“Yes. I think... fear is one of the few emotions that never went away. You play these games with me but it’s like an echo of how you used to act – you’re merely going through the motions. I think it’s a defense mechanism, whilst the very notion of making a connection with someone scares you, I don’t think you would even know how any more.” Jaw clenched, Amélie glared at her as she spoke but gave no reply. ”I don’t know what they did do you, Amélie, but I’m certain the suffering you endured was unimaginable. And in the end, I think what you feared the most is the idea of ever facing that kind of pain again. So everything else – even killing your husband – seemed easy in comparison. Maybe you struggled, thinking that even if you fled and somebody kept you safe from Talon, they couldn’t do it forever. And you saw only way to ensure you never felt what they put you through again.”

Lacroix didn’t even blink. At the edge of her eye, Mercy was half-certain she saw a nascent tear. Regardless of whether she was wrong or not, she kept going.

“But when I see you now, I think Talon’s ‘training’ is failing. Underneath the cold exterior still lies that gentle ballet dancer. In brief moments you allow yourself to remember how you used to be, but that memory soon vanishes, like in a slave afraid of their master’s whip. And now, after everything you’ve done I think there is something you fear even more than Talon. I think you’re afraid to come back, Amélie. To face your family, your friends, with the knowledge of all the lives you’ve taken still in your mind. The very idea – to go on, to attempt even semblance of a normal life after all that has happened... it’s inconceivable. Despite what you say, I think the thing that keeps you where you are is your conscience, some twisted logic saying you deserve it because you’ve caused so much suffering to others. And every bullet you fire pulls you further down that abyss. But it’s not too late, Amélie. Let me help you.”

For a split second Lacroix simply held Angela’s gaze. And then the sensation of a single tear on her cheek triggered something in her and she lunged at the doctor, shoving her to the window and pinning her against it. She held her there, one hand above the blonde’s chest and the other tracing the contours of her jaw. To an unsuspecting eye the gesture would’ve seemed affectionate, but in reality, the French woman was one impulse away from snapping her neck.

“How ironic,” Widowmaker hissed threateningly, “that despite your nickname is it _you_ who are at _my_ _mercy_.”

“No, Amélie,” the doctor responded in a tristful tone. “You are at mine.” She made no attempt to free herself, yet the fact that her eyes held not fear but sadness – for Lacroix, stayed the assassin’s hand. The meaning of what Angela said escaped her, but that seemed trivial compared to the realization that for the first time since she had become Widowmaker, she was having doubts about a killing a person. She couldn’t understand what it was about this situation and Mercy in particular that brought about this conflict inside her. All she knew was that she stared into those azure eyes for what seemed like an eternity before she felt Angela’s gentle touch. The blond woman slowly removed her hand and held her in both of her own. She then placed a tender kiss on the back of Amélie’s fingers and wiped the tear from her cheek.

Lacroix stood frozen. She wanted to flee, to find a way of staving off every emotion threatening to consume her. But there was nowhere to go, and her inability to deal with the situation in any way prompted to her to take the only action that seemed to make sense  - the only way to distance herself from what was happening. In a strange twist of fate, she sought escape in the arms of another. She leaned in to kiss Angela but in that brief moment she saw the doctor’s lips part, forming a nascent word of protest.

“Don’t,” Lacroix mouthed, echoing what she thought Mercy was about to say. And though she couldn’t find it in herself to utter another word, the pleading tone of that sentiment told Angela so much more. Please, don’t do this. Don’t make me face my demons. Don’t deny me this brief escape from all that I am.

Maybe Mercy imagined it. Maybe she wanted to believe these were the thoughts of Amélie Lacroix. But something told her that despite everything Widowmaker had said or done – it was true. A thousand voices screamed in Angela’s head, each giving her a different reason why she shouldn’t do this. Yet she only heard the one telling her this was right. This was kind. This was _merciful._ She clasped the neck of the woman that by all accounts was her enemy, and pulled her in for a kiss.

The first thing that Angela thought was how cold Amélie's lips were. The second – how soft. She sensed a latent discomfort in Lacroix, like the nature of that contact had become unnatural to her. But with tender licks, nips and kisses the doctor made her feel more and more at ease. Soon the eagerness and fervor with which the French woman forced herself to respond had dissipated, as if she was content to take cues from the blonde in the passionate exchange. Mercy flowed around her like water, gracing every part of her lips with as much tenderness as she did lust. Her tongue probed gradually, licking into Lacroix with ever increasing hunger. Her fingers ran through the mane of purple hair, removing the hair band and turning the elegant pony tail into a sericeous wave that fell down her back.

Mercy’s lab coat hit the floor first. Her white shirt followed immediately after. The speed and skill with which the French women removed her clothing would’ve left her breathless if kissing her hadn’t already done so. The fresh air of the office told her bra was gone as well, and when she felt her skirt pool around her feet she realized only the thin fabric of her panties separated her from Amélie’s touch. Yet as Widowmaker’s mouth left her lips and began laying down a path of licks and kisses down her jaw and to her neck, she felt the woman’s finger graze the line of the white lingerie piece with no intent of removing it. Soon Lacroix slithered her way inside, deft fingers exploring  and sliding down to her center. And then she inserted a single digit and bit her shoulder at the same time.

The sheer difference of the twin sensations elicited an irrepressible moan from the mouth of the blonde. As if the feeling of her most intimate depths being explored was not enough, the knowledge that it was Amélie Lacroix who was doing it seemed to make her twice as vulnerable to every touch upon her body. And she became keenly aware of this when Widowmaker trailed down to her breast, and bit into her nipple with a little more force than the blonde would’ve liked.

“Ah!” she gasped in pain, but without meaning to, the sound came out as a moan of lust rather than discomfort. Amélie glanced up at her, those luscious lips curving into an impudent grin before resuming her work on Angela’s breast. She knew exactly what she was doing to Ziegler, but she couldn’t help testing the doctor’s limits. She relished the fact that Mercy was pushing herself further than she otherwise would, just for the sake of her lover. So she made full use of the effect she was having on the other woman, lavishing her sensitive breasts with both pain and pleasure.

For her part, Ziegler was rapidly losing her composure. A thin sheen of sweat covered her skin, her breathing grew increasingly labored and the fact that Lacroix’s nips and bites set an infuriating pace in sync with her fingers wasn’t helping at all. She felt herself thrust forward with every lunge of Amélie’s fingers, desperate for release that she hoped would come soon. But then Widowmaker suddenly pulled out of her and flipped her around, so that she was now facing the glass. Angela’s position had changed, but the French woman didn’t lose a beat. She leaned against the blonde, relishing the feel of naked skin that reached her through the flimsy uniform. Her hand snaked around the waist of her lover and entered her silky folds once more. She kissed the side of her neck while her other hand reached for her breast, tweaking the tumescent nub that adorned it with just a little more force than Ziegler could handle.

The doctor squirmed under her touch, her every moan misting the window and concealing the embarrassing sight of herself in the throes of ecstasy. Lacroix thrust into her relentlessly, accentuating each motion by licking her neck, nipping her ear, or viciously squeezing her nipple. Pleasure built rapidly, steadily consuming Mercy and wreaking chaos on her senses. She would’ve gladly spent eternity writhing on Widowmaker’s fingers, but when the flat of Amélie’s palm brushed against her clit, her body could take no more.

Orgasm ripped through her, eliciting a keening wail from her throat. She felt herself tightening around the invading fingers, inundating them with her essence over and over. Her body weakened even as her lover relentlessly kept pleasuring her until Angela tried pulling away. But Amélie held fast, refusing to let her stop coming. Soon Mercy felt her legs give way and were it not for Lacroix, she would’ve slumped pathetically to the floor. As it was, the French woman had her pinned there for god knows how long, until at some point she finally removed her fingers and pulled away.

Ziegler vaguely noticed the silhouette of her body on the misted window, before gingerly turning around to face Lacroix. The assassin was leaning against the S.I.T. unit, smirking smugly and glancing down at Mercy’s nether region. At that moment Angela did the same and immediately realized why Widowmaker didn’t remove her panties. The white piece of lingerie was thoroughly drenched, and the fact that she stood like that under Amélie’s watchful gaze only fueled the blonde’s embarrassment further. Feeling too self-conscious do to anything at all, she remained there for a few moments before Lacroix’s seductive nature took over and the “come here” motion of her finger finally made Mercy move.

She closed the distance between them, all the while looking at the floor. When she stood in front of the Talon operative, Amélie’s finger tilted her head upwards for their eyes to meet. Lacroix then knelt while still holding her gaze and slowly pulled down her sodden panties. She then stood back up, and without breaking eye contact entered the blonde with three fingers. Angela gasped anew, incapable of looking away but desperately wanting to. She felt the digits leave her, before they were placed at her bottom lips, seeking entrance. Without a single thought she closed her mouth around the glistening fingers. She only licked for a second or two and the Widowmaker pulled them back, now invading her with her tongue instead. She kissed into the blonde as if she was afraid the taste would disappear before she had the chance to taste it on her lips. But it remained, shared between them as they made out slowly, passionately, perversely.

When at length they broke the kiss, Angela stared at her lover in a new light. Her sole focus at the moment was the French woman’s body and what she intended to do with it. She gripped her uniform near the shoulders, and pulled down until it fell at their feet. She gently pushed her onto the platform of the healing device, until Amélie lay there leaning on her elbows, her form a sultry invitation that Mercy could not refuse. She crawled over Lacroix’s body, noting the understated traces of arousal between the woman’s own thighs. She absorbed every inch of the flawless skin, her face intentionally close so that Amélie could feel every breath she made. Then propping up, Ziegler sat with her thighs on either side of Widowmaker’s form. For a moment she simply admired the perfection of what she was seeing, and then she leaned down to capture a turgid nipple between her lips. She suckled the sensitive nub, intermittently stimulating it with gentle licks. Lacroix’s chest began rising ever so slightly faster, her mouth emitting a sigh so quiet that Angela almost missed it. But as she progressed in pleasuring the other woman, she became aware of the reserved nature with which Amélie took her pleasure. Even as she made her way downward, spending an inordinate amount of time lavishing the gently muscled stomach of her lover, no discernable reaction could be seen or heard from Widowmaker. Only when she reached her sex and placed a tender kiss at the apex of it did the blue-haired assassin come close to moaning. But even that small sign was enough for Angela. For better or for worse, Lacroix would soon learn that when Mercy promised Overwatch doesn’t torture prisoners, she was not being entirely honest.

Angela drew back, changing the focus of her attention to that of her thighs. Methodically, purposefully, she licked and kissed her way up one, then the other. She came dangerously close to that slightly lighter shade of blue that Amélie’s sex was endowed with, before pulling away and beginning all over again. Throughout the agonizing pace of her work, she began noticing a change in her lover. Inaudible moans could soon be discerned, her relatively steady breathing becoming more ragged. She wondered if there was a point at which the French woman would start begging, but she still decided against finding out. So when Lacroix tilted her pelvis upwards in a desperate attempt for contact, she knew she had teased her long enough.

She licked along Amélie’s slit, laving the exposed and tender flesh. Widowmaker’s body slumped down to the flat surface in relief, her needs finally being tended to. Talon’s conditioning still held sway over her mind but the fact that it has been so long since she was pleasured by another, or herself, meant that at this moment she was in a veritable grip of ecstasy. And though she couldn’t let go to the extent that Mercy may have wanted her, both of them knew what she was going through.

So Ziegler resumed her work, giving the doctor-patient relationship an entirely new meaning. She licked and kissed between her lover’s thighs as if she meant to stave off pain. Yet the infuriatingly slow pace was having an almost opposite effect. Every time she came closer to Amélie’s clit, the louder moans made Angela acutely aware of how desperately _she did not want this to end._ Her ministrations began blurring the line between pleasure and pain, and at one point she glanced up to see Lacroix’s jaw clenching in frustration as she reached for Mercy’s head, only to pause mid-way and close her hand into fist. Angela grinned at that, but started applying her skills faster. Her fingers gripped either of Lacroix’s thighs, fingertips digging into the very area of skin she knew to be extra sensitive. Her tongue lapped at the French woman’s sex, only occasionally brushing over the hypersensitive nub at its apex. She kept going until a breathless yet loud gasp let her know that Amélie Lacroix was coming for her.

The woman’s thighs gripped her body, even as they spasmed from the force of the orgasm. In contrast to the unrestrained and libidinous display with which Mercy had come, Lacroix climaxed in a reserved, almost disciplined manner. After that initial draw of breath, she breathed unevenly for but a few moments, before releasing the blonde from the grip of her athletic legs. Ziegler noted with amusement she had not even broken a sweat, thought that might have had something to do with her altered physiology. Nevertheless, the sweet flavor coating Angela’s lips was evidence enough of everything that transpired.

They lay there for a few moments, Mercy’s head leaning against the inner side of Amélie’s thigh, as she, in turn, ran her fingers through the blond tresses of her lover in an uncharacteristically affectionate fashion. Ziegler would never be so arrogant as to presume what happened between them has instantly wiped the hold Talon had over the woman, but the feeling of those fingers stroking her head made her feel hopeful it would one day at least be possible.

Some time after, Angela remembered where they were and the situation they were in. She rose slowly and awkwardly spoke.

“We, uh... we’ve been here for a while. Perhaps it would be best if--”

“No!” Amélie gasped, the undertone of despair in her voice unmistakable. “There’s still time.” She grabbed Mercy’s hand and pulled her close, a single kiss they shared enough to convince Angela they could stay there for a little longer.

 

 

*

 

Angela dressed in silence. The euphoric atmosphere began dissipating slowly and the only thing that remained was a sense of unease they were both feeling. Lacroix put her uniform back on, all the while avoiding eye contact. For a few minutes neither woman spoke before Amélie suddenly stood up and went to the window. She waited before the blast shutter, simultaneously reaching for her right sleeve and pressing two times at the very edge of it. Mercy heard a quiet beep from that very spot. Just when she was about to ask what that was about, the lights flickered back on.

Angela jumped up, startled, unsure of what to do. She knew that in about a minute the shutters would open, having witnessed the way they worked once before. What she didn’t know is where this left Amélie and her. She watched Widowmaker’s face in the glassy reflection and could easily tell the woman was making an effort not to look back. She opened her mouth to say... she wasn’t even sure what, but at that moment she saw Amélie’s jaw clench and she immediately gave up. Really, what could she tell her? “Don’t go?” The very idea was ludicrous. But even worse, Angela began to suspect she had overestimated the effect she had on the assassin. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe everything that had happened between them was merely a game of Lacroix’s, an act she fell for like a fool. She didn’t want to believe it.

And then the shutters began sliding open. The first ray of light hit Widowmaker’s feet and started rising, soon deleting the reflection Mercy was looking at with hope. She vaguely heard some sounds in the distance, but couldn’t for the life of her make out what they were.

Amélie remained motionless, waiting. _Any moment now._ Then suddenly she felt the urge to look at Mercy one last time and she turned around. The moment their eyes locked and those azure orbs gazed back at her, she finally understood what the doctor meant when she told her she was at her mercy. Regardless of all the threats made, and even temporary desires to end Ziegler’s life – Angela had always been the only one that could reach her. She was her sole chance of shedding Talon’s influence and emerging from the starless night that was her existence, regardless of the crushing doubt that told her she would never again be free. Still she knew Mercy would try – heedless of any the danger that followed.

With those thoughts in mind, Amélie felt her lips curve into a faintest hint of a smile – a smile that was now mirrored on Angela’s own face. The reassuring gesture told the doctor she was not wrong about Lacroix after all. But she also understood how vastly that small comfort was overshadowed by the uncertainty of their future. Such was their profession, such were their lives.

“Until we meet again,” Amélie breathed out, and though it was framed as a statement, the undertone of enquiry was unmistakable. The burst of emotions that Mercy felt from that one sentiment only highlighted her desire for that moment to come soon. Yet for all intents and purposes, they were still adversaries, at least as far as the rest of the world was concerned. Whatever lay in store for them, it would take time. So Angela only briefly nodded, which seemed enough for Widowmaker.

The very next moment gunfire erupted right outside of Mercy’s office and the window glass shattered into a million pieces. Amélie seemed unfazed, and merely moved forward. With a light step up, she leaned over the edge and jumped. Angela listened to the whir of Talon’s aircraft that was switfly getting lost in the distance. She felt the urge to run to the window and see Amélie one more time, but that seemed like a gesture too romantic and hopeful for the circumstance they were in.

She awaited the arrival of her comrades that would no doubt soon be there. In those moments she considered the possible consequence of Amélie’s escape. Jack would be only be grateful that she was okay, that much she knew. But there were others who might look to place blame, which right now seemed of little importance. Whatever criticism or fallout she faced, she would bare it gladly. It would all seem trivial in light of the knowledge that when Amélie and her meet again, it needn’t be as enemies.

 


End file.
